It’s far easier to go with the flow than to expand into spiritual frontiers—because once you begin to explore the absolute allness of God, confusion and doubt may ensue. I liken it to flying at a low altitude in the clear blue sky, and then, recognizing the need to go higher, piercing through the clouds. The going can get a bit rough.
It’s important to remember, though, that we’re not pilots. We don’t fly the plane—that’s God’s job. We’re simply passengers. If we trust the pilot, we aren’t alarmed when the plane goes through turbulence, because we have the pilot’s assurance that the turbulence is momentary. We could liken this audible assurance to “the angels of His presence—the spiritual intuitions that tell us when ‘the night is far spent, the day is at hand’—are our guardians in the gloom” (Science and Health, p. 174).
I had given an address in Europe on Christian Science, and my husband and I were flying back to the United States when the pilot announced that the plane had encountered problems and that we should be prepared for a potential crash landing. We had each been reading and studying Christian Science literature since the plane had taken off, and felt far more confident in what we had read than in what we had heard. As we were in the exit rows, the flight attendants paid special attention to us, wanting to know if we could handle the exit door if needed. We assured them we could and then quietly added, “But we’ll never have to.” It seemed so paramount that God’s law, the allness of God, superseded all other laws, including physical laws of flight and aerodynamics.
